Ivory Keys
by ApolloNico24601
Summary: Suddenly, a cold sliver of metal pressed itself against her neck and large hand with long, boney fingers clamped around her mouth. Meg yelped but her protests were muffled. The wickedly curved blade dug ever so slightly deeper into her skin. "Yes, what are you doing here I wonder?" Plz review!
1. Chapter 1

**Just a short (possibly a one-shot depending on feedback) fanfic about an idea that's been stuck in my head. I don't own POTO, if I did it would've ended a lot differently.**

Meg Giry waded through the icey waters of the obsidian waters surrounding the phantoms lair. She could see her breath and she shivered violently, her teeth chattering. The chorus girl's thin dress offering no protection against the cold as it clung to her like a second skin. She hugged herself tightly and bit back a yelp when she lost her footing and almost fell straight into the deeper water. Meg tried not to think about what would happen if she did; she couldn't even swim properly. Despite all the odds being piled against her, she'd managed not to get caught in any of the horrific traps on the way down to the lake. Maybe the phantom had disabled them when he left? If he'd left.

Meg couldn't believe the risks she was taking coming down here. Her Mother would kill her if she knew. If the phantom hadn't killed her already. She'd always been told that curiosity killed the cat, but this was more than curiosity. There were so many questions that needed answering. What was it that brought Christine down here in the first place? What, or who, had convinced her to stay?

The shore of the phantoms so called home loomed up ahead in the darkness. Meg squinted as she drew nearer, her pace speeding up and her footsteps becoming more careless. Suddenly, her foot caught on some rope, from a loose net maybe? She cried out as threw her hands out in front of her as she hit the stone steps, she skin of her palms tearing. Immediately Meg clasped a hand over her mouth as her voice ricocheted through the dark cavern. Slowly, she rose to her feet, her eyes starting to adjust.

The lair was covered in a light coating of dust and cobwebs, but underneath, Meg could sense the presence of a once magnificent masterpiece. It was as if the mind of the genius lingered on the ivory keys of the towering organ, remaining immortal inside the ink notes that graced the parchment that lay haphazardly around the damp stone floor. Faded red silk, now torn and ragged, hid numerous chambers and doors from view. The dancer, lithe and graceful, stepped silently through the charred paper, torn cloth, and shattered glass towards the organ. The keys were blanketed by the same thin layer of dust as the rest of the lair, only this felt different. This felt not abandoned, but untouchable. Meg felt the overwhelming urge to run her fingers over the ivories, but refrained. She felt unworthy. Instead she softly traces the notes written in red ink on the battered score on the music stand. It was the only undamaged object in the room, as if the destroyer couldn't bring himself to do it. She scanned through the lyrics, imagining the dark, ominous voice of the phantom in her head. But somehow, his menacing voice didn't fit the words.

Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation.

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.

They seemed too soft, too beautiful to relate to his murderous soul and hideous face. She frowned, imagining him sat at the stool, singing softly and seductively. Then Meg thought back to that night, the night of Don Juan. The look in Christine's eyes as he sung to her, his voice possessive and alluring. And then the change, the change when his mask was torn away and he was exposed and desperate, pleading with Christine and expressing his love in the only way he knew how. Through song. Suddenly the lyrics seemed so much more believable.

What was she thinking? This man, this demon, was a monster. A creature of hell. Think of all the people he'd murdered and how much terror he'd caused when the opera house was under his reign. But those eyes, so full of love and sorrow. Was Christine right? Was there really more to this so called phantom than just his face? Meg frowned and shook her head, stepping away from the organ.

She had the terrible feeling that she was being watched. A cold shiver ran up her spine. It was probably just her imagination, the spirit of the phantom haunting her.

"What am I even doing here?" She asked herself in a whisper.

Suddenly, a cold sliver of metal pressed itself against her neck and large hand with long, boney fingers clamped around her mouth. Meg yelped but her protests were muffled. The wickedly curved blade dug ever so slightly deeper into her skin.

"Yes, what are you doing here I wonder?"

**Please review, even if it's crap because if it is I'd like to know so I don't keep writing crap stuff :) **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Meg fell silent, like a rabbit in the headlights. Her heart was beating like a hummingbirds wing. Oh how she wished she could take flight right now. The Phantom's muscles were coiled like a viper, and Meg felt that with one wrong move he could snap her neck as easily as he would snap a twig. She could feel his lean body pressed against her back, lithe like a panther's. The blade rested on her neck, a featherlike touch, almost a caress. How could someone with a voice so beautiful be so evil? So murderous and tortured that he became a monster. _And with a face to match _Meg thought bitterly, clenching her fists to stop them shaking. If he was going to kill her, she'd stay strong. _Never let them see your fear_ as her mother said.

"You-" the young dancer started, her voice cracking with fear. She swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. "You wouldn't kill me." She challenged, hoping she sounded more confident than she was.

The Phantom was fooled by nothing. Marguerite felt a deep rumble in his chest as he started to laugh. It wasn't the same manic laughter that she was used to, it was an ominous, low chuckling. _Can someone really take that much joy in other's fear. _

"Do you really believe that, child?" he challenged, his menacing baritone giving her goosebumps.

_No. Not at all._ Meg's mind was frantic.

"My mother will know it was you." she countered, playing her second card.

There was a pause and the Phantom exhaled heavily, but his grip never loosened.

"Your mother," he hissed. "abandoned me as soon as the mob began to hunt me. Why should I care if she suspects me or not?"

Meg felt her heartstrings being pulled. Underneath the anger lay eternal sorrow, betrayal. She'd always sympathised with others sorrow. Even if they were a creature like the phantom. _He deserves it. He's a murderer._

"And if she did, what would she do about it?" he teased, and she could almost hear the victory in his voice.

As much as she hated to admit it, her mother would never confront a villain like the Phantom. Even if her daughters life was at stake. Its not that she wasn't a strong woman; Meg had seen her make even Andre and Firmin quake under her wrath. But never the Phantom. She tried to think of something clever to say. _What would Mother say?_

"She'd do nothing." Meg admitted, trying to keep her resolve strong and calm. "You could kill me right no and no-one could do a thing to stop you. Are you happy now? Will my death help drown your sorrows?"

"You know nothing of sorrow, Young Giry." he spat, the knife pressing ever so lightly into her neck.

"Maybe I don't," she agreed, beginning to feel faint. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. "But if you kill me I may never be able to learn."

There was another silence, slightly longer than the last.

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you." he inquired, his voice casual yet curious, as if she was just another of his victims. _He's just a cat playing with the mouse before it's killed_

"It would..." Think Meg think! "Be a mark on your conscience." That's the best you could come up with?

"Ha!" The phantom let out a single laugh. "You should know by now that I have no conscience."

"Then why didn't you kill me instantly?"

"I get lonely. It's not often that I get someone to talk to down here."

"What about Christine?"

Meg knew as soon as she said it that it was most definitely the worst thing to say. The knife dug into her skin by a few millimetres, making her gasp as she felt warm droplets of blood trickle down the pale skin of her neck.

"Never mention that name." He growled in her ear making her break out in a cold sweat.

She wanted to ask why, but she wouldn't let her curiosity get her into even more trouble.

"You're going to kill me anyway, so you may as well get it over and done with." She whispered, almost incoherable.

"I wouldn't have to kill you if you hadn't tresspassed, Young Giry."

"Stop calling me that!" Meg snapped, taking herself by surprise. "And you always have a choice. You could let me go if you weren't heartless."

That was it Meg thought. If her curiosity hadn't killed her then her sharp tongue definitely would. Suddenly, menacing laughter ricocheted through the cavern.

**I was only planning on this being a one shot so sorry for the small chapters. Please tell me if I should continue or whether I should stop filling Fanfiction up with my awful writing :p And thanks to all who reviewed or faved or followed!**


	3. Chapter 3

"You made your choice coming down here, _Little Giry._" he sneered, elongating her surname to mock her. "And I would not describe myself as heartless... I just have less of a heart than others."

"Will your small heart hold any guilt when you kill me?" Meg asked, her heart-rate getting faster and faster.

He could kill her any second if he got bored of her talking. Meg Giry, the ballet dancer that can never keep her mouth shut, was struggling for words at the time she needed them most.

"How will I know until I kill you?"

"You wont," she stated, fighting to stop her voice shaking at the talk of her own death. "But please find some way to write and tell me once I'm dead, I'll be curious to know.

The Phantom chuckled lightly, the knife unwavering in his hand as blood continued to drip onto Meg's dress.

"You are a very curious child." he observed and Meg forced a smile to try and fight the closing darkness.

"As I have been told a lot."

"And will you write back to me from beyond the grave?"

"I will try, as I am sure you will be curious to know what heaven will be like," Meg paused before continuing. _I'm going to die anyway._"Considering the only afterlife you will know is the fires of hell."

The Phantom sighed, as if he'd heard this many times before.

"All humans are bound to hell, we will never be good enough in the eyes of '_Our lord God'._" he assured.

Meg panicked again as she couldn't think of anything to say. His words had slithered through her ear unnoticed and coiled themselves around her brain. Now they were starting to constrict. Maybe he was right. Shouldn't she be saying her prayers rather than bantering with the devil before her death? She couldn't think of anything she would've done wrong. Surely there was a heaven for all pure souls...

"Do you not agree, child?"

"Does it matter?" Meg asked. "Whether I go to heaven or hell, whether they exist or not, at least I will be away from you."

She felt his muscles tense behind her and his teeth grit together.

"That's all everyone wants, just to get away. To get away from the monster that torments them." he hissed angrily.

"Maybe if you didn't greet people with the blade of your knife they might not feel as strongly." she criticised him, her voice almost a whisper croaky with uncontrollable fear. "If you just-"

"If I didn't would you stay?" he interrupted.

His voice had changed; instead of being filled with violence and malice, there was something else there too. An underlying sense of defeat and despair and desperation, maybe even a glimmer of hope. _He isn't heartless, his heart isn't even small. His heart is broken._Underneath the anger and hatred, was the voice of a broken man. A man who had been tormented and turned away and had his heart beaten down until it had retreated into his black and rage-filled mind. But now, the young ballet dancer could see it clearly, whether intentional or not.

"Or would you run like the rest? Screaming with fear and horror?" he continued, her mind being sent into emotional turmoil.

_He's a monster! He killed Piangi! He killed Buquet! He's playing with your head, you're going to be next if you don't think of something!_

Should she lie or tell the truth? What was the truth?

"I don't know." she admitted, putting as much sympathy into the words as she could.

_He's going to kill you! Whats the point?_

"Why?" she inquired.

He inhaled quickly, as if snapping out of a trance, almost unheard by the young dancer.

"Just... Curious." he replied, the usual mocking tone in his voice.

Once again, his words seemed to drain all hope from her heart, leaving it cold and shrivelled, beating only pure fear that radiated out of every pore in her skin.

_Whats the point in biding time when you won't act? _With a last burst of courage, she slammed the back of her head into his chest and tried to duck under the blade. She awaited the searing pain that would come as the knife plunged into her side, but it didn't come. Instead, cold fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back. She whirled around to face him, to look him in the eye as he killed her, but then he was gone. His deadly grip on her had vanished.

**Sorry again for the short chapter and the huge amount of time it took me to update. :( Plz review even if you thought it was crap. Sorry if I dont update soon but Ive just started writing a book and there lots of exams at the moment so sorry!**


End file.
